Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 9 August 1895 — Page 7

!'S ILL THE

K.

By HALL OAINE,

Author of "'The Manxman," "The Deemster," ctc.

CHAPTER XV.

The night is long that never iimls the day. —Macbeth. The shaft of the old load mine down which Christian leaped was 45 feet deep, yet ho was ?iot killed lie was not even hurt. At the bottom was 15 feet of water, and this had broken his dreadful fall. On coming to the surface, one stroke in the first instant of dazed consciousness had landed him on a narrow ledge ofock that raked downward with the seam. But what was his position when he realized it? It seemed to be worse than death itself it was a living death it was life in the arms of death it was burial in an open grave.

Ho heard steps overhead, and in the agony of fear he shouted. But the steps went by like a swift breath of wind, and no one answered. Then he reflected that these must have been the footsteps of the police. Thank God, they had not heard his voice. To be rescued by them must have been ruin more terrible than all. Doubtless they knew of his share in to night's attempted crime. Knowing this, they must know by what fatality he was buried here. Christian now realized that death encircled him on every side. To remain in this pit was death to bo lifted out of it was death no less surely to escape was hopeless. He looked up at the sky. It was a small square patch of leaden gray against the impenetrable blackness of his prison walls.

Standing on the ledge of rock and steadying himself with one hand, ho lifted the other stealthily upward to feel the sides of the shaft. They were of rock and were precipitous, but had rugged projecting pieces on which it was possible to lay hold. As he grasped one of these a sickening pang of hope shot through him and wound ed him worse than despair. But it was swift. It was gone in an instant. Tho piece of rock gave way in his hand and tumbled into the water below him with a hollow splash. The sides of the shaft were of a crumbling stone.

Now indeed he knew how hopeless was his plight. He dare not cry for help. He must stand still as death in this deep tomb. To attract attention would of itself bo death. To remain down tho shaft would also be certain death. To climb to the surface was impossible. Christian's heart sank. His position was terrible.

This conflict, of soul did not last long. The heart soon clung to the nearest hope. Cry for help he must. Be dragged out of this grave lu should, let the issue bo what it could or would. To lie here and die was not human. To live in the living present was the lirst duty, the first necessity, be the price of life no less than future death.

Christian reflect! that, the police, when he heard their footsteps, had been running to Lockjaw creek. It would take them five minutes to reach it. When they got there and saw tho boats on the shingle, they would know that their men had escaped them. Then they would hasten back. In ten minutes they would pass tho mouth of the shal't again". Five of these ten minutes must have gone already. If he were to be rescued, he must know about when they ought to return, so that ho might shout when ihey were within hail. He remembered that their footsteps had gone from him like the wind. T1k long shaft and CO feet of dull dead rock and earth had carried them oil in an instant.

Christian began to reckon the moments. His thoughts came too fast. He knew they must deceive him as to time. Minutes in this perilous position might count with him for hours. He took out his watch, meaning to listen .or the beat of its seconds. The watcn had stopped. No doubt it was full of water. Christian's heart beat loud enough. Then he began to count— one, two, three. But his mind was in a whirl. He lost his reckoning. He found that lie had stopped counting and forgotten the number. Whether five minutes or 60 had passed he could not be sure.

Hark! He heard something overhead. •Were they footsteps, those thuds that fell on the ear like the lirst rumble of a distant thundercloud'? Yes, some one was near him. Now was his time to call, but his I tongue was cleaving to his mouth. Then I he heard words spokeu at the mouth of tho |shaft. They rumbled down to him liko I words shouted through a hollow black pil|lar. "Here, men," said one, "let's tumble |hrm into the lead mine. No harm will it jdo him now, poor craythur."

But another voice, laden with the note of fearful agony, cried, "No, no, no!" ''We must do something. No time to pose now. The fac's is agen us. Let's lake a slant for it, anyway. Lift again— jp!"

Christian shuddered at the sound of hu|nan voices. Buried, as he is, GO feet jeneath the ea-rt h, they came to him like [he voice that the wind might make on a [empestuous night if, as it reached your it whispered wnrils imil (led qwn\-

The men were gone. Christian's blood ras chilled. What, had happened? Was |ome one dead? Who was it? Christian juddered at tho thought of what might lave occurred if the dead body had been lossed over him into the pit. Had tho poIce overstepped their duty? Were they the lolice? Did lie not remember one of the pices, or both? Christian'sentempestsoul ras overwhelmed with agony. He could Jot be sure that in very truth he was concious of anything that occurred.

Time passed—he knew not liow long or lort—and again he heard voices overhead, hey were not the voices that ho had heard efore. "They have escaped us," said one. iTheir boats are gone from the creek |ow."

These, then, were the police, and with a tesh flood uf agony Christian realized |iat the other men had been his friends. lat fatality had prevented him from cryhg aloud to the only persons on earth who puld in very truth have rescued and saved i? The voices above were dying away, stopl" cried Christian. Despair made brave. Fear made him fearless. But one answered. Then he was conscious kat a footstep approached the top of the baft. Had he been heard? Now he prayed

God that he hud not. ]"What a gulf," said one. "Lucky we Idn't tumble down. The young woman rned us, you remember." [There was a short laugh at the mouth of ristian's open grave. He did not in. The voices ceased the footsteps led off. [He was alone once more, but death was ith him. The police had gone. Kisseck |d his men had gone. They were no lubt out at 6ea by this time if. as the po-

uf

lice said, the boats had been taken from the creek. Christian remembered now that the voices he had heard first wero those of Corteen anil Danny Faylo. This recovered consciousness enabled him to recall the fearful memory of what had been said. Cold as he was, the sweat stood in big drops on Christian's forehead. One of their own men was dead, one of the companions in this night's black adventure. A bad man perhaps, or perhaps merely a weak victim, lnit, his own associate whatever else he had been.

Now if he were to escape from his death in life it must be by his own unaided energies alone. It was best so best that ho should climb to the top without help or be lost without, detection. After all, it was a superior power that had governed this dread eventuality and silenced his impotent tongue.

An hour passed. The wind began to rise. At first Christian felt nothing of it as ho stood in his deep tomb. He could hear its thin hiss over tho mouth of the shaft, and that was all. But presently the hiss deepened to a sough. Christian had often heard of tho wind's sob. It was a reality, and no metaphor, as ho listened to the wind now. Tho wind began to deascend. With a great swoop it came down the shaft, licked the walls, gathered voice from tho echoing water at the bottom, struggled for escape, roared like a caged beast and was once more sucked up to the surface with a noise like tho breaking of a huge wavo over a reef. The tumult of the wind in tho shaft was hard to bear, but when it was gone it was the silence that seemed to be deafening.

Sometimes the gusts were laden with the smoke of burning gorse. It came from the fire that Danny had kindled on the head of the Foolvash. Would the fire reach tho pit, encircle it, descend in it?

Then the rain began to fall. Christian knew this by the quick monotonous patter overhead. But no rain touched him. It was being driven aslant by the wind and fell only against tho uppermost part of the walls of the shaft. Sometimes a soft thin shower fell ovrhim. It was like the spray from a cataract except that the volume of water from which it came was above and not beneath him.

Christian had begun to contemplate measures l'or escape. That unexpected soft ness of the rock which had at first appalled him began now to give him some painful glimmerings of hope. If the sides of the shaft had been uniformly of the gray slate rock of the district, the ledge he had laid hold of would not have crumbled in his hand. Being soft, there must bo a vein of sandstone running across the shaft. Christian's bewildered memory recalled what he must have heard many times of the rift of redstone which lay under the headlano south of Peel. If this vein were but deep enough, his safety was assured. He could cut niches into it with a knife, and so perhaps after infinite pain and labor reach the surface. Steadying himself with one hand, Christian felt in his pockets for his knifo. It was not there! Now death in deed was certain. Despair began to take hold of him.

Ho was icy cold and feverishly hot at intervals. His clothes wero wet. The water still dripped from them and fell at inter vals into the hidden tarn beneath in hollow drops

But not so soon is hope conquered when it is hope of life. Not to hope now would have been not to fear. Christian remembered that he had a pair of small scissors attached to a buttonhook. When searching for his knife, he had felt it in his pocket and spurned it for resembling the knife to tho touch of his nervous fingers. Now it was his sole instrument. He found it again, opened, and with this paltry help he set himself to his work of escape from this dark, dee]) tunnel that stood upright.

Tho night was wearing on. Hour after hour passed. The wind dropped. The rain ceased to patter overhead. Christian toiled on, step over step. Resting sometimes on the largest and firmest of the projecting ledges, ho looked up at the sky. Its leaden gray had changed to a dark blue studded with stars. The moon arose 'tnd shone a little way down his prison, lighting all the rest,. He knew it must bo early morning. One star, a large full globe of light, twinkled directly above him. His eye was fascinated by that star. He sat long and watched it. He turned again and again in his toilsome journey to look at it. Was it a symbol of hope? Pshaw! Christian twisted back to his work. WThen he looked for the star again, it was gone. It had moved beyond his ken. It had passed out of range of his narrow spot of heaven. Somehow it had been a mute companion. Christian's heart sank yet lower in his cheerless solitude.

Still he toiled on. His strength was far spent. The moon died off, and the stars went out one after one. Then a deep, impenetrable cloud of darkness overspread the little sky above. Christian knew it must be the darkness that precedes the dawn. He had reached a ledge of rock wider than any that were beneath it. Clearly enough a wooden rafter had lain along it.

Christian rested and looked up. At that moment he heard the light patter of four little feet overhead, and a poor stray sheep, a lamb of last spring's flock, bleated down the shaft. The melancholy call of the lost creature in that dismal place touched Christian deeply. What was it that made tho tears start to his eyes and his whole soul shako with a new agony? The outcast lamb wandering over this trackless waste in the night had touched an old scar in Christian's heart and made the wound bleed afresh. Was it strange that in that hour his thoughts turned involuntarily to littlo Ruby Cregeen? The darling child, caressed by the salt breath of the sea, and with the sunlight dancing in her eyes and glistening on her ruby lips, had she then anything in common with the little wanderer that sent up her pitiful cry into the night? Too much, too much, for the man who heard it, and he was buried in a living grave, with the tombstones of dead joys rising everywhere around, with the fire that had for years been kept close burning now most of all. Oh, these dead joys, they want the deepest gravel

Christian turned again to his weary task. To live was a duty, and live he must. His fingers were ehiiled to the bone. His clothes still clung like damp cerements to his body. The meager blades of the scissors wero worn short. They could not last long. Christian rose to his feet on the ledge of rock and plunged the scissors into the blank wall above him. Ah, what fresh disaster was this? His hand went deep into soft earth. The vein of rock had finished and all that was above it must be loose, uncertain moldl

He gasped at the discovery. A minute since life had looked very dear. Must he abandon his hope of it after all? He paused and reflected As nearly as he could remember, he had made 20 niches in the rock. Hence he must be fully 86 feet from the water and ten from the surface. Only t«n feet, and then—freedom! Yet these ten seemed to represent an impossibility. To ascend by holes dug deep in the eoft earth was a perilous enterprise. A (Treat clod of soil might at any moment

give way a Move or nenoath turn, aim tuoti I he would be plunged once more into tho pit. If he fell from the side of the shaft, lie would be mure likely than at first to strike one of the projecting ledges and be killed before he reached the water. There was nothing left but to wait for the dawn.

Perhaps the daylight would reveal some less hazardous method of escape. Slowly the dull, dead, impenetrable blackness above him was lifted off. It was as though a spirit breathed on the night, and it fled away. When the woolly hue of morning dappled his larger sky, Christian could hear the slow beat of the waves on the shore. The coast rose up before his vision then—silent, solemn, alone with the dawn. The light crept into his prison house. He looked down at the deep black tarn.

And now hope rose in his heart again. Overhead he saw timbers running around and across the shaft. These had been used to bank up the earth and to make two grooves In which tho ascending and descending cages had once worked. Christian lifted up his soul in tliaukfulness. Tho world was once more full of grace, even for him. Ho could climb from stay to stay and so reach the surface.

Catching one of the stays in his uplifted hands, he swung his knees on to another. One stage was accomplished, but how stiff were his joints and how sinewless his fingers 1 Another and another stage was reached, and then four feet and no more were between him and the gorse that waved in the light of tho risen sun across the mouth of his night long tomb.

But the rain of years had eaten into these timbers. In some places they crumbled and were rotten. God, how the one on which he rested creaked under him at that instant I Another minute, and then the toilsome journey would be over. Another minute, and his dead self would be left behind him, buried forever in this grave. Then there would be a resurrection in very truth. Yes, truly God was helping him.

Christian had swimming eyes and a big heart as he raised himself on the topmost stay that crossed tho shaft and clutched the long tussocks of the clinging gorse. Then, at the last spring, he heard a creak —another, louder—and the timbers were breaking beneath his feet. At the same moment he heard a half stifled cry, saw a face. It was Mona's face. There was a breathless instant of bewildered consciousness.

In another moment Christian was standing on the hillside, close locked in Mona's arms.

CHAPTER XVI.

When the knocking ceased at Kisseck '& and Mona's footsteps were heard to turn away, Corteen and Killip knelt on the floor and felt tho body of the master and knew that he was dead. "Let's get off anyway," said one "let's away to sea, as the gel said. The fac's is agen us all." "Maybe the man was right," said the other. "It's like enough she's got the Castle Ruslien fellows behind her, and they"'11 be on us quick. Come, bear a hand."

Their voices sounded hollow. They lifted Kisseck on to their shoulders. A thin red stream was flowing from his breast. Corteen picked up a cap from the floor and stanched tho blood. It was Danny's cap and as they passed out it fell again in the porch.

Danny himself stepped away from the door to let them pass. He had watched their movements with big wide eyes. Tliej went by him without a word. When they were gone, he followed them mechanically, scarcely knowing what he did. With bare head, and the pistol still hanging in his rigid hand, he stepped out into the night.

It was very dark now. They could see nothing save the glow of the fire burning furiously over the Poolvash. And only the sharp crackle of the kindling gorse and the deep moan of the distant sea could they hear. They took the low path back to tli'o Lockjaw, where they had left the boats They body was heavy, their steps were uncertain in the darkness, and their capture seemed imminent. As they passed the mouth of the old pit, Corteen proposed to throw the body into it. Killip assented, but Danny, who had not uttered word or sound until now, cried, "No, no, no!" Then they hurried along.

When they reached the Lockjaw, they descended to the bay, got into one of the boats and pushed off. The other boat—the police boat that Danny had brought from the castle—they pulled into midstream and there sent it adrift It ran ashore at (he next flood tide, two miles farther up tin. shore. When they got clear outside of the two streams that How round the head, they were amazed to find the Ben-niy-chree bearing down on them in the uncertain light. What had happened was this

On running down the lamp that was put up on the ruined end of the pier the two wen who had charge of the Ashing boat, had lain to and staid aboard for some minutes. Davy Cain and Tommy Tear having effected their purpose ashore, had stolen away .from their simple companions and we/e standing on the quay. The two couples of ii2en were exchanging words in eager whispers when they heard shouts from the castle. "What's that? Kisseck'? voice?" "No." "Something has gone wrong. Let us set sail and away." So thev stood out again to sea, passing close by the Castle rock. They now realized that the voice they had remembered was the voice of Kinvig. That was enough to tell them that mischief had been brewing T'.u-y rounded the island and saw the fire over the head of the Lockjaw They filled av»nv and kept the boat off to her course in t.hev saw the dinsrv athwart their and pulled to. Corteen and Kiilip the body of Ki.-.secl into the fishing

boat, and Danny Fayle, all but as silent and rigid, was pulled up after it. As the lad was dragged over the gunwale the pistol dropped from his haml and fell with a splash into the sea. A word of explanation ensued, and once more they were standing out to sea, with their dread freight of horro* ind crime. The wind was fresh outside. It was on their starboard quarter as they now made for the north. They saw the fire burning to leeward. It sent a long, red, sinuous track of light across the black water that flowed between them and the land Danny stood forward, never speaking, never spoken to. gazing fixedly at that sinuous track. To his affrighted senses it was as tho serpent of guilt that kept trailing behind him. When they were well away, and the/ men had time to comprehend in its awfol fullness what had occurred, they stood together aft and whispered. They had placed the body of the master by the hatchways, and again and again they turned their heads toward it in the darkness. It was as though the body might even yet stand up in their midst, and any man at any moment might find it face to face with him, eye to eye. The certainty that it was dead had not taken hold of all of them. It still bled, and one of the "crew, Quilleash, an old man repute* to possess a charm to 6top blood, knelt down beside Kisseck and whispered in his ear. "A few irood words can do no harm any­

way, said Tear, and even Davy Cain w.r too much aghast to jeer at the superstition. "Sanguis inane in to, sicut Christus so," whispered the old man in his native tongue into the deaf ear, and then followed a wild command to the blood to eeaso flowing in the name of the three godly men who Ciune to Home—Christ. Peter and Paul.

The blond stopped indeed. But "Chamarroo as eiagli," said the old man, looking up. as dead as a stone.

Danny stood and looked on in silence His spirit seemed to be pine, as though it could awake to life again only in another world.

When death was certain, the men began to mourn over Kisseck and recount, their memories concerning him. "Well, Hill's cruise is up. poor fellow, and a raol good skipper anyway." "Poor Bill! What's that it's say in—'lie who makes a ditch for another may fall into it himself?'

None spoke to Danny. A kind of awe fell on them in their dealings with tinlad. They let him alono. It was as if he had been the Instrument, in greater hands "He hadn't a lazy bono in him, hadn't. Bill. Aw, well, God will be aisy on tho poor chap." "You have to summer and winter a man before you know him. And leave it to me to know Kisseck. I've shared work, shared meat with him this many a year." "And a fine big chap, and as straight as the backbone of a lierrin. Aw, well, well, well." "Still, for sure, Bill made a man too the mark. I'm «hinkin, poor chap, he's got. summat to answer for anyway. Well. Veil, every man must go to tho mill with his own sack."

Then they compared memories of how the dead man had foreseen his end. One remembered that Kisseck had said ho knew he should not die in his bed. Another recalled the fact that on Good Friday morning Kisseck struck the griddlo that hung in the ingle and tumbled it into tho fire This tangible warning of approaching death the witness had seen with his own eyes. A third man remembered that Kisseck had met a cat when going homo on Oio houiney (Halloween). And if these prognostications had counted for little, there was the remaining and awful fact that on New Year's eve Bridget Kisseck had raked the lire on going to bed, and spread the ashes on the floor with the tongs, and next morning had found that print of a foot pointing toward the door which was the certain forewarning of death in the household within a year.

Tliej- were doubling the point of Ayre, with no clea.- purpose before them and with some misgivings as to whether they had done -wisely in setting out to sea at all when the wind fell to a dead calm. Then through tlio silence and darkness they heard large drops of rain fall on the deck. Presently there came a torrent, which lasted nearly an hour. The men turned In. Only Danny and tho body remained on deck. Still the lad could see the glow of the fire on the cliff, which was now miles away. When the rain ceased, the darkness, which had been all but palpable, lifted away, and the stars came out. Toward 3 in tho morning the moon rose, but it was soon conceal -d by a dense black turret cloud that reared itself upward from the horizon. All this time the fisMng boat lay motionless, with only the. lap of the waters heard about her

The stars died off. Tho darkness came again, nnd then, far on in tho night, the first gray streaks stretching along the east foretold the dawn. Over tho confines of another night the soft: daylight was breaking, but more utterly lonely, more void, more full of dread and foreboding was the great waste of waters now that the striding light was chasing the curling mists than when the night was dead and darkness covered the sea. On one side of them no other object on the waters was visible until sky and ocean mot in that, great half circle far away. On the other side was the land which they called home, from which they had fled, to which they dare not return.

Still not a breath of wind. The boat was drifting south. The men came up from below. The cold white face on thedeck looked up at them and at heaven. "We must put it away," said one in a low murmur. "Aye," said another. Not a second word was spoken. A man went, below and brought up,an old sail. Two heavy iron weights, used for holding down the nets, were fetched up from the hold. There was no singing out. Thev took up what lay there cold and stiff and wrapped it in the canvas, putting one of the weights at the head and another at the feet Silently one man sat down with a sailmaker's needle and string and began to stitch it. up. "Will the string hold?" asked another "Is it strong enough?" "It will last him this voyage out—it's a short one, poor fellow."

Awe and silence sat on the crew. Danny, his eyes suit used with an unearthly light, watched their movements from the bow. When he was lifted aboard last night, a dull, dense achiiigat his heart was all the consciousness lie had, and then the world was dead to him. Later on a fluttering wi.'iin him preceded the return of an agonizing sense Had lie not sent his uncle to perdition? That he had taken a warm human life that Kisseck, who had been alive, lay dead a few

feet

away

from him—this was as nothing to the horrible thought that his uncle, hard mail, a brutal man, a sinful man, hail been sent by his hand, hot and unprepared, to an everlasting hell. "Oh, can this have happened?" his bewildered mind asked itself a thousand times as it awoke as ofien from the half dream of a stunned and paralyzed consciousness Yet it was true that such thing had occurred Xo. it was not a

night mare. He would never, never awako in the morning sunlight and smile to know that it was not true. No, no—tru*, true. True it was even until the day of judgment, and he ami Kisseck stood onco more fiioe to face.

Da nny watched the old man when ho whispered into the dead ear the words of the mystic charm He turned his eyes to the sinuous trail of light behind him. All night long he lay on deck with only the dead for company. He saw the other men, but did not speak to them. It was as though he himself were already a being of another world and could hold no commerce with his kind.

He thought of Mona, and then his heart was near to breaking. With a dumb longing his eyes turned through tho darkness toward the land. The boat that was sailing before the wind was carrying him away from her forever. To his spiritualized sense the water that divided them was as the river that would flow for all eternity between tho blessed and tho damned.

The last ray of hope was flying away. It had once visited him, liko a gleam of sunlight, that though he might never clasp her hand on earth, in heaven she would yet be his, to love forever and ever. But now between them the great gulf was fixed.

When the gray dawn came In the east, Danny still lay in the bow, haggard and pale. The unearthly light that now fired

lus eyes was the first word of a fearful tale. A witch's Sabbath, a devil's revelry, had lu-giin in his distracted brain. In a state of wild hallucination he saw his own specter. It had gone into the body of Kisseck. and it. was no longer his uncle, 'but: himself, who lay there dead. He was eolil. His face was whit£, and it stared straight up at thy sky. 1 le watched with quick eyes the movements of the crew.

He saw them bring up the canvas and the weights. He knew what tTiev were going to do. They were going to bury him in tho sea.

Silently the men brought, from below the bank board used in shooting tint nets. They lifted the body onto it, and then with the scudding pole they raised one end of the board onto the gunwale.

The boat had drifted many miles. She was now almost due west off Peel. The heavy clouds of night still rolled before tho dawn. A gentle breeze was rising in the southwest.

All hands stood round and lifted their caps. Then the old man Quilleash went down on one knee and laid his right hand on the body. Two other men raised tho other end of the board. "Dy bishee jeeah shin," murmured tho old fisherman. "God prosper you," echoed the others.

Then down into the wide waste of still water slid the body of Kisseck. Danny saw it done.The image that had possession of him stood up so vividly beforo him at that, instant that ho shrieked. He peered into tho water as if his eyes would bring back what tho immemorial sea had swallowed up forever.

Forever? No. Listen! Listen to that rumble as the waves circle over the spot where the body lias disappeared. It. is tho noise of tho iron weights shifting from their places. They are tearing open the canvas in which tin body is wrap ed. They liavo rolled out ol it and sunk into tho sea.

And now look! The body, free of the weights, has come up to the surface. It is floating like a boat. The torn canvas is opening out. It is spreading like a sail in the breeze. Away it goes over the sea! It is flying across the waters, straight for the land.

The men stood and stared into each other's faces in speechless dismay. It wasas though an avenging angel had torn tho murdered man from their grasp and cried aloud in their ears, "Blood will have blood.''

They strained their eyes to watch it un til it became a speck in the twilight of the dawn and could bo seen no more.

Nor had the marvel ended yet.. A great luminous line arose and stretched from their quarter toward the land, white as a moon's waterway, but with no moon to make it. Flashing along the sea's surface for several seconds, it seemed to tho men liko the finger of God marking tho body's path on the waters.

The phenomenon will be understood by those only w'" have marked closely what has been said of the varying weather of this fearful night, and can interpret, aright, its many signs. To tho crew of the Ben-my-chree it had but ono awful explanation.

CHAPTER XVII.

As Mona stood at the angle of tho mountain path and the road leading to the door of Kisseck's cottage, she saw four men pass her and run into the house. She recognized Danny and his uncle, but not Christian. Perhaps the darkness deceived her, but she thought the other two wore Corteen and Killip. After a few minutes she heard loud voices from the cottage, mingled with terrific oaths. If the police returned suddenly, and were made witnesses of this turmoil, discovery and conviction were certain. Mona crept up, meaning to warn tho men and get, them to put out. to sea. She knocked and had no answer. She tried tile door, and it was barred, Still the loud quarreling continued. i®"'

Among other voices k.1io recognized Kisseck's and Danny's. Christian's voici she could not hear, but in her perturbation and the angry tumult any voice might, escape her. Then came the pistol shot,, the cry, the fall and a long silence. She knocked again and yet again. She ('ailed on Christian. She hail no reply. She called on Kisseck. Then came the words, "Bill is gone to bed." Somehow, she knew not why, the words chilled her to the heart's core. Fearful, distraught, in the agony of uncertainty she fled away to the town. Christian, where was he? Had he indeed passed her among the rest? Was he in that house when that shot, was lired? At whom? By whom? Wherefore? The suspense was more terrible than the real ity could have been.

Through Peel and on to Balladhoo Mo na ran with shuddering heart. She asked tor Christ inn first, llowwell her fears told her that he was not there. She asked lor the gardener. .Jemmy Quark Balladluio, like Tommy-Bill-beg, was away at The waits. Something must be done, for something terrible had occurred. The hour was late, but Mylrca Balladhoo would certainly be awake and waiting the return of Kerru:.-•! Kinvig with intelligence of the e:.pceud e.-pvure. '".'ell Mvltva 1 wish to speak with hin. at once nnd alone." said Mona. hi ':!ot!jer laou.c'it, Myln-a i.. il!s• cmi" 1.1 Indoor Willi a lamp held .v.-ove his head to :i:U-h sight Ol' his late visitor. "Al.., the young woman from Kinvig Come in, my girl. Come in, come in."

Mo-.ia followed the old gent Ionian inte the li(,ii:- Her face in the lamplight, w.-e a^liy ale. the pupils of her eyes were di la'.ed. tier lips quivered, her lingers t.rem bled and re intertwined "Is Mr Christian at home, sir?" said Mona

JSlylrea tialladhoo glanced up under his spectacles. What Kerruish Kinvig had once said of Christian and this young woman flashed across his mind at that instant. "Tso, my girl, no. Christian is helping the Castle Ruslien men to lay hands on that gang of scoundrels, you know." "11c is not. with them, sir," said Mona, with a fearful effort-. "Oh, yes, though I sent .Ternmy after him to instruct, him. But he'll be home soon. I expect, him every minute. I hope they've captured the vagabonds."

It was terrible to go on. Mona lifted up her whole soul in prayer for this old man, whose hour of utmost need had come. And she herself was to deal the blow that must shutter his happiness. "God help him," she muttered passionately, and the voluntary prayer was made audible.

Mylrea Balladhoo rose stiffly to his feet. Ho looked for an instant and in silence into the palo face before him. "What is it?" he faltered, with an affrighted stare. "What news? Is Christian —where is Christian? Have the scoundrels^njured him?" "H^vas one of themselves," said Mona and dropped to her knees in the depth of her agony.

Then, slowly, diejolntedly, inconsequentially, repeating incident after incident, beginning again and again, explaining, excuains. oravinsr for nardon and clnsning

the old

nii.it

knees in the tempest of liox-y

passion, .Mona told the whole story as she knew it how she had heard too late that. Christ ian had gone out in Kisscck's boat how she tried to compass his rescue how, at the very crown and top of what shomistook for her success, the hand of fate itself seemed to have been thrust in to thisruin of all She finished with the story'of the flight of the four men to Kisscck's cottage, the quarreling there, tho pistol shot and the strange answer to her knock.

Mylrea Balladhoo stood still, with the stupid, bewildered look of one who haw been dealt an unexpected and dreadful blow The world seemed to be crumbling under him. At that first instant, there wa» something like a ghastly smile playing over his pallid face. Then the truth came rolling over his soul. The sight was tearful to look upon. He fell back, wit.h a low moan. But the good God sent, the stricken old man the gift of tears. He wept, aloud and cried that he could better have borne poverty than such disgrace. "Oh, my son, my son! Howhavo you shortened niydays! How have you clothed me with shame! Oh, my son, my son!" But love was uppermost even in that bitter hour.

It was not. for this that Mona had made, her way to Balladhoo. She wanted help. She must find where Christian was and*, whether in truth he had been one of thefour who passed her oil the mountain path.

Together she and Mylrea Balladhoo set off for Kisscck's cottage. How tho old father tottered on the way! How low his. head was bent, as if tho darkness itself had eyes to peer into his darkened soul!

When they reached tho cottage in thequarry, the door was wide open. All was silent now. No one was within. A candle burned low on the table. The fire wasout. A soft, seaman's cap lay near tliei porch. Mona picked it up. It. was DannyFayle's. They stepped into the kitchen. A shallow pool was in tho middle of ther floor, and the light from the candle flicker ed in it. It was a pool of blood "My son, my son!" cried Mylrea Ballad hoo. His knees failed him, and he sank to the floor. Tortured by suspense, bewildered, distracted, in an agony of doubt, he had jumped to the conclusion that this was Christian's blood and that he had been murdered. No protest from Mona, no argument., no entreaty, prevailed todisturb that instant inference. "lie is dead! He is head!" he cried. "Now is my heart, smitten and withered, like grass." Then rising to his feet and gazing through his poor blurred eyes into| Mona's face with a look of reproach, "Young woman," he said, "why would you torture an old mail with words of hope? Christian is dead. My son is dead Dead? Can it be true? Yes, dead. Lord, Lord, now let me eat ashes for bread and. mingle my drink with weeping."

And so lie poured out his soul in a tor rent of wild laments. Debts were a.s trifles, to this. Disgrace was but as a dream to this dread reality. "Oh, my son, my sonT Would to God I had died for thee. Oh, my son, my son

Mona stood by and saw the unassuageable grief shako him to the soul. Then she took his hand in silence, and together they stepped again into the night. Out of that chamber of death Mylrea went forth a shattered man. Ho would not return to Balladhoo. Side by side they tramped up and down the harbor quay tho long night-.' through. Dp and down, up anil down, through darkness anil rain and then under moonlight and tho stars until the day dawned and the cheerless sun rose over tin* sleeping town.

Very pitiful was it. to see how the old man's soul struggled with a vain effort to glean comfort, from his faith. Kvery text-!, that rose to his heart seemed to wound it afresh "As arrows are in the hand of a, mighty mfi.il so are children of tho youth. They shall not be ashamed. O Absalom, my son, my son! For thy sake 1 have borne rcproach shame hath covered my face. I am poor and needy make haste unto mo, O God! Hide not, thy face from thy servant, for I am in trouble. Set thine housed in order O God, thou knowest. my foolishness! The waters have overwhelmed! me, the streams have gone over my sou! the proud waters have gone over my soul."

Thus hour after hour, tottering feebly at Mona's side, leaning sometimes on thogirl's arm, the old man poured forth his-, grief. Atone moment, as they stood by the ruined end of the pier and Danny'sgorse lire glowed red over the Lockjaw creek and the moon broke through a black raineloud over tho town, the sorrowing man turned calmly to Mona and said, with a strange resignation: "1 will he quiet. Christ ian is dead. Surely I shall quiet myself as a child that, is weaned of its mother. Yes, my soul is even as a. weaned child."

Just then two of the police who had heera on the cliff head came up and spoke. "They have escaped us so far, sir," he said, "but we are certain to have them The (Ire yonder was lit to warn th'-m Your fishing boat, the Ben-my-eliree, ha^ been taken out. to sea. Kvery man that, is in her inur.t be captured. Don't troubleto stay longer, sir. Wean posted everywhere about.. They are doomed men. Make your mind easy, sir, and go off toyour bed. Goodnight."

Mona felt the old man's arm tremble as. it lay on hers.

(TO tin finsTixtiKii

N I I N

Sa uuel JohiiMin and his son Walter wer- both on the siclv list the first of llle IV" ok

I i.e rattle of tiie oi'ol balls can now b- heard at the L\'change day and ght when there are any men around fond of the sport.

It, was a pretty hot day but. Jay SlavMis thought lie could take a snow ball to Marion and back last Wednesday, and he succeeded.

A ew dwelling is being erected in Stringtown, north of the Clover Leaf 11.. which will be occupied b.y Hub P.irker. .1. H. I'arker is seeing that the house is built.

What does it tell to hear a bov call anyone by their surname, especially old people? It tells that tln-v lack a little training at home, but this is young America and old people can take, a back seat nowadays.

Linden people have had all the goiDg- this week they wanted. The excursion was patronized to the e.xtent of §120 and $30 wcrth of tickets were* sold for the Marion excursion. The-' latter had twelve coaches with stand ing room at a premium.

The fellow that made the remark at» the depot Wednesday to an old manthat he must be going to take a big load. "Why?" asked the old man. The answer was: "You came up with a double header." Now does that show anything smart to talk that way to an. old man by a young man. Let thepeople judge.

Jabs